


sharpie tattoos and you're mine

by your_bus_driver



Series: psych fics because why not [8]
Category: Psych, Psych (TV 2006)
Genre: Crack, Dialogue Heavy, Drunken Flirting, Drunken Shenanigans, Drunkenness, Established Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Groping, Just a lot of terrible drunken flirting, M/M, POV Carlton Lassiter, Tattoos, Touching, but not really smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:41:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21881161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/your_bus_driver/pseuds/your_bus_driver
Summary: “What?” Carlton sighed.“I was going- am going to get ‘Property of Lassie’ right here.” He fumbled to gesture, getting caught in his seatbelt.“A tramp stamp?”“One, that’s misogynistic. It’s called a lower back tattoo. Two, no. But you’re getting warmer.”“Why in the world would you do that?”“Because you own this ass!”“I’m never drinking with you again.”
Relationships: Carlton Lassiter/Shawn Spencer
Series: psych fics because why not [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1292414
Comments: 5
Kudos: 150





	sharpie tattoos and you're mine

**Author's Note:**

> I've been clearing out my drafts and here it is... hope you like it!

“Lassie,” Shawn whined from the passenger seat. “Lasssiiieee…” 

“What?” 

“I’m tired.” Shawn said from the ball he had formed on the passenger seat. 

“That’s why we’re going home,” Carlton said patronizingly. “Maybe you should’ve have had all that wine.” 

“Wine makes me feel good. And sleepy. But mostly good.” Shawn said, his hand wandering over to Carlton’s leg. “How about I make you feel good too?” 

He was almost home. God willing before Shawn fell asleep. He wasn’t carrying him into his apartment, again. Sure, the last time had been fun but a lot more sober. 

Shawn and him went to see a movie with a wedding it. When they got home, Shawn had insisted they played ‘just married’ and made him carry him over the threshold. But then Shawn carried him and it ended with some fake wedding night sex. 

I guess it wouldn’t be too bad if he had to carry him. But it wouldn’t be as fun as last time with him drunk as a skunk. 

“Pull over!” Shawn said, suddenly coherent and grabbing at the wheel. 

“Hands to yourself,” Carlton barked as he tried to steady the vehicle. Shawn was lucky it was late and there weren’t many cars on the road. 

“That’s not what you said last night, or this morning.” 

“How about this? When I’m driving, you keep your hands to yourself.” 

“Fine, but I’m not happy about it. I’d rather go parking than driving if you know what I mean.” Carlton looked over in time to see Shawn wink with both eyes and smirk drunkenly. “I’m serious about the tattoo parlor. If you don’t pull over I will jump out of this vehicle. That’s a promise and a threat.” 

“Fine,” Carlton gruffed. “Fucking christ. How does Guster handle driving with you?” 

“He doesn’t. That’s why you’re doing it.” 

“I’m driving you because we live at the same place.” 

The parking lot he pulled into was practically empty and dimly lit. His instincts were flared and his anxiety was peaked. This was the set up to a very bad ending. Then O’Hara would find his body tomorrow and it would be a whole investigation. 

“Why do you want to go to a tattoo parlor?” 

“Because I’ve had a brilliant, upon brilliant idea.” 

“Which involves pricking yourself thousands of times with needles? You’re too drunk to get a tattoo.” 

“I got that last one when I was drunk.” Shawn rolled his eyes. 

“You don’t have a tattoo.”

“Not that you know.” 

“I’ve seen you buck naked, I would’ve seen it.” 

“Not if you’re busy doing other, more fun things. It’s easy to miss.” 

“Where..? Nevermind. You’re not getting another tattoo tonight.” 

“Why not?” 

“But you haven’t even heard what I’m getting.” Shawn whined, curling up tighter in the seat. 

Carlton looked out into the dark parking lot. There were two ways to get out of this. One, he could lock the doors and drive. Shawn could unlock the door and jump out but that was a slim chance. Or, he could indulge his dopey, stupid, adorable partner and let him ramble on, and then still say no. 

“What?” Carlton sighed. 

“I was going- am going to get ‘Property of Lassie’ right here.” He fumbled to gesture, getting caught in his seatbelt.

“A tramp stamp?” 

“One, that’s misogynistic. It’s called a lower back tattoo. Two, no. But you’re getting warmer.” 

“Why in the world would you do that?” 

“Because you own this ass!” 

“I’m never drinking with you again.” 

“Just think about it. Think about it. Your name permanently on this perfect body.” Shawn said lowly and Carlton tried to ignore the effect that statement had on him. 

“Lassie isn’t my name. People would think you belonged to a dead dog from an old sitcom.” 

“Who else is gonna see it? But I see your point, how about your badge number? I see that look. You are intrigued. I have tickled your fancy, among other things.” 

“How about I write it with Sharpie when we get back to my place?” 

Shawn thought for a moment, loud enough for him to hear the gears grinding. He was surprised there wasn’t pineapple flavored smoke coming out of his ears. “

“As long as I get to write mine on yours.” 

“You don’t have a badge number, idiot.” 

“My name, Lassie. Who’s the idiot now?” 

“Me for indulging this shit. Also you, for obvious reasons. Hands to yourself,” Carlton said, easing out of the parking spot. 

“Until we get home but no promises after that. I might forget but I’ll try my best.” And then there was a hand on his thigh. 

“You have the best memory I know. That’s not an excuse.” Carlton scolded, but didn’t move it away. If he drove home a bit over the speed limit, that was his business.


End file.
